


we build our altar here

by postcardmystery



Category: Gossip Girl
Genre: F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-10
Updated: 2012-12-10
Packaged: 2017-11-20 18:38:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,085
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/588455
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/postcardmystery/pseuds/postcardmystery
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Destroy him," says Blair, her lips murder-red. Chuck smirks and turns to Dan, who nods, the wheels already turning.</p><p>"Oh, you have no idea," says Dan, his eyes hard, and Blair smiles, ice that somehow burns.</p><p>"We have some idea, Humphrey," says Chuck, his hands curling into two sets of identically dark hair, "that's the point."</p>
            </blockquote>





	we build our altar here

Manhattan is a kingdom, but they don't tell you that.   


 

  
Carter Baizen has a smile like a knife-edge, like a danger sign, and Chuck Bass sees it reflected in antique silver, in burnished gold, in a crystal wine glass, takes note, takes it, makes it his own.  


 

  
“I don’t know how to love you,” says Blair, her mascara running, “it always feels like too much for just two people.”  
  
“I know,” says Chuck, because he does, doesn’t have the answer, any answer, that Blair would want to hear.  


 

  
Daniel Humphrey is nothing, until he’s something, an arrogant little boy from Brooklyn whose dark gaze is always on Serena’s face, and Blair rolls her eyes, and waits for him to go, and waits, and waits, and.  


 

  
“You’ll ruin them,” says Dan, and Carter laughs, deep and bitter, says, “I know.”  
  
“Don’t you care?” says Dan, and Carter throws his whisky back, says, “Humphrey, people like us are always ruined. It was just a question of  _time_.”

 

  
  
Serena has moved on, forever that butterfly, and Chuck sees Dan always watching, always on the sidelines, the same sidelines Chuck stands on, but Dan is just a boy and Chuck is— well, Dan is standing in  _someone’s_  kingdom, and it certainly isn’t his own.  


 

  
“A bad penny,” says Chuck, because he doesn’t need to make threats, his tone more than adequately does that for him.  
  
“Hmm,” says Carter, another plane ticket between his fingers, more cocaine slipping through his veins, “takes one to know one.”  


 

  
Carter’s finger is wrapped around one of her curls, his skin, stark, like her own, against the dark, and they’re the wrong hands, the right hands, and then, then, they’re just hands.  


 

  
“I don’t love you,” says Dan, and Blair smiles, her mask broken, says, “I almost believed you that time.”  
  
“It’s not you I’m worried about,” says Dan, his eyes sliding to where her two princes stand, and Blair narrows her eyes, says, “Well, you were always a stupid one, Daniel Humphrey.”  


 

  
He sees him because he sees everything, Carter Baizen, the golden boys of golden boys, but that pedestal shakes, that statue comes tumbling down, and then Dan only hears of him in whispers, Gossip Girl blasts, and half-remembered dreams, because he’s gone, at least for a little while, but he was a king, and a king, even a one dead and gone, he leaves his mark.  


 

  
“You aren’t supposed to be here,” says Blair, imperious, and it’s a command, no doubt about it, so Carter bends his knee, says, “I have come to beg for sanctuary, my lady.”  
  
“That’s nice,” says Blair, allowing him to kiss her hand, “what did you steal from Bass this time?”  
  
Her only answer is a rustle that suggests silk over jewels, and that eternal, infernal smirk.  


 

  
Chuck takes Blair’s hand, and it all falls down, and her kisses her mouth, and it all falls down, and he whispers  _I love you_ , and, and, and.  


 

  
“How many times do I have to tell you, you aren’t poor any more, don’t dress like it,” says Chuck, and Dan fiddles with a cufflink, says, “I don’t really think that a pink shirt is, how do you put it,  _me_.”  
  
“Shut up and live out your Fitzgerald fantasies, I know you’re just  _dying_  in there,” says Chuck, and Dan raises an eyebrow, says, “Does that make you Hemingway?”  
  
“And Blair Zelda?” says Chuck, batting Dan’s hand off his sleeve, “We can compare cock sizes later if it gets you in the  _mood_ , Humphrey.”

 

 

Carter runs, and this time, he doesn't come back.  


 

  
"You're an asshole," says Dan. He's drunk, and not quite angry. It's been five years since Constance Billard and St. Jude's. Twenty three is not so very old, when all is said and done.  
  
"And for your next trick?" says Chuck, putting down his whisky decanter.  
  
"I used to have integrity, you know," says Dan, in the way you only ever do when it's yourself you're trying to convince.  
  
Chuck pushes Dan back onto the bed; slides his knee between his legs.  
  
"Integrity is cheap," says Chuck, his breath hot on Dan's ear, "it's an  _illusion_ , Humphrey."  
  
"What isn't," says Dan, bitter. It's not a question, but Chuck answers it anyway.  
  
"Love, Humphrey. Welcome to Manhattan."  


 

  
Blink, and it's 1904. Blair has lace at her throat and her hair piled high. Chuck's waistcoat is a deep red, his pocket-watch gold and flashing. Dan's eyes are starvation-hungry and his fingers are cinereous with ink. Blair is wearing a crown no one can see and Chuck  _owns_  Wall Street. Dan is hungry only for the intangible and Blair has so many secrets to hide in the dark. Chuck has crushed the whispers and Dan has pulled himself up with red-raw fingers, the ink in his bloodstream, now. The triumvirate, they're called, but only behind their backs. The  _triumvirate_ , and this war is over. No more fighting, no more betrayals. The Queen, the Prince, the Shadow. Watch them hold court. Watch them _burn_.

 

 

  
"You love me," says Blair. She doesn't ask questions she already knows the answer to. Queens do not do that.  
  
"You love Chuck," says Dan, and Blair smiles, hot.   
  
"For someone so vicious, you're very naive, Humphrey," she says, and gets out her cell.  


 

  
They're in bed for days. Dark hair, dark eyes, and all the blackness in their hearts. This is what was missing. The key has turned the lock, and the gates of the city are open. Try and stop them now. Try and stop them now.

 

  
  
"You're more cruel than Blair could ever be," says Chuck, a little admiring. Gossip Girl is just a weapon, now that they've seen the light.   
  
"Just a push of a button," says Dan, arch, and pulls his scarf tighter around his bruised throat.

 

  
  
They hold court. Carter is gone but not forgotten. Georgina is gone for good. Serena frowns and judges; Nate sighs and hopes there isn't a wedding. Lily Bass follows a little too closely; Jenny, over an ocean, loses her mind with rage. They hold court, and this is how it starts.

 

  
  
"Destroy him," says Blair, her lips murder-red. Chuck smirks and turns to Dan, who nods, the wheels already turning.  
  
"Oh, you have  _no_  idea," says Dan, his eyes hard, and Blair smiles, ice that somehow burns.  
  
"We have some idea, Humphrey," says Chuck, his hands curling into two sets of identically dark hair, "that's the  _point_."  


 

  
Manhattan is a kingdom, but it isn't yours.


End file.
